Shimotsuki arrived not long after, dressed in a way that caught me off guard. Her outfit was fashionable without being flashy.
A cream blouse tucked neatly into a dark skirt, her long ashen-gray hair pinned partly back with a silver clip.
I blinked before saying, "Didn't expect your fashion sense to be this spot on."
She placed a hand on her hip, feigning offense. "That's cruel. I'm a girl too, you know."
"…Sorry," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.
She smiled faintly, letting me off the hook. "Shall we go now?"
"Yeah."
The two of us left the academy grounds together. The streets beyond the gates felt quieter at this hour, with lanterns beginning to glow in their frames and the air carrying the faint scents of food stalls preparing for the night.
After a short walk, the familiar signboard came into view.
"Oh," I muttered before I could stop myself, "this bookstore."
Shimotsuki turned her head slightly, her brow arching. "You know this place?"
"Yeah. I remember seeing it the day I arrived in this city." My voice came out flat.
I can't help but remember the three person I encountered about a month ago. It's just self-defense for me. But from what I've been through, it won't end at just that.
Moreover, they were wearing matching shirt, as if they're part of a gang.
Or if they're a three person couple, good for them. Personally, I'm not into that. And if they were just a throuple instead of gang members, then all the better for me.
The little bell above the door chimed as we stepped into the bookstore. The familiar smell of dust and paper hit me the moment we walked in, tugging at the memory of the last time I'd been here.
I stayed close to the entrance, hands stuffed in my pockets, while Shimotsuki went straight for the counter. Her voice was soft but clear as she spoke with the owner.
I let my eyes roam the cramped shelves, books stacked so carelessly some looked like they'd topple over if you breathed too hard. I didn't bother moving. I just leaned against the wall, letting her handle her business.
"Excuse me," she said softly to the man behind the counter. There lies a balding fellow with round glasses slipping down his nose. "I believe you called me earlier about a book I requested" She continued.
The owner perked up, recognizing her. "Ah, yes, yes! Miss Yozora. I managed to procure it just this morning. Quite the rare find these days, you know?" Not many people ask for Dream of the Red Chamber anymore."
Shimotsuki's lips curved faintly. "It's a classic. Too good to be a lost media."
He chuckled, rummaging through a stack of wrapped parcels behind him. "Most of the younger students who come through here ask for flashy new novels, or the sort with magic duels and romance scandals. It's rare that I got requested a book like this."
"Is that so?" she replied, her tone light but thoughtful. "I thought book like this would sell for alot, if given enough exposure."
The man handed her the parcel at last, neatly tied with string. "Still, I'll admit, I'm glad to see someone your age with that kind of appreciation. There's rarely old folks like that, let alone teenagers."
She accepted it with both hands, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you for going through the trouble. I imagine it wasn't easy."
He waved her off. "For someone like you? It's no trouble at all. You've kept this little shop alive more than once with your orders. I should be thanking you."
The two of them lingered in easy conversation after that, the owner rambling about how difficult it was to keep certain titles in circulation, how publishers no longer reprinted old texts unless someone special requested them.
Shimotsuki listened with a patience that surprised me, nodding along, asking the occasional question. She looked at ease, as if this quiet exchange was more natural to her than anything back at the council office.
I kept to myself, scrolling through information I would never need. Minutes slipped by. The air inside grew dim, the light outside shifting from gold to a hazy violet. I glanced at the window and noticed the sky had deepened into dusk.
"Shimotsuki," I called softly, pushing off the shelf. "The sun's almost down."
She turned, as though only just remembering I was there, then looked to the window herself. "Oh…" Her voice carried the faintest trace of surprise. "You're right."
She bid the owner a polite farewell, cradling the wrapped book in her arms like it was something delicate.
We left the bookstore with the wrapped package safely tucked under Shimotsuki's arm.
The streets had begun to glow with the deep orange of dusk, lanterns and streetlights flickering on one by one. The air was filled with the smell of frying batter, roasted meat, and simmering broth from the rows of food stalls lining the road.
I glanced at the vendors, then at Shimotsuki. "Hey… is it alright if we look around for a bit? It won't hurt to grab something small."
She blinked at me, then smiled lightly. "I don't see why not. We're not in any rush."
So we did. We walked side by side, stopping here and there. She tried a skewer of candied fruit; I grabbed a steaming bun stuffed with pork and chives.
For a while, it almost felt normal. Like two students hanging out after class, instead of a High Council member and some guy who kept stumbling into trouble.
Of course, the moment didn't last.
The crowd thinned as we moved further down the road, the lively chatter of the main stalls fading into silence. Few people walked this way at this hour. It was the kind of spot you only passed if you had business here.
Which made the figures stepping out from the shadows ahead of us all the more familiar.
Three of them. Same face, same outfit. Except, I don't see them bringing a weapon this time. It could very well be concealed, hidden in their pockets. Ready to be pulled out the moment I let my guard down.
Shimotsuki slowed beside me, her grip on the book tightening. I didn't need to say a word. I knew they weren't here to talk.
Back in my hometown, it is the same. When you lose to them, you become their targets. When you win against them, they bring more people to gang up on you.
Since I only see the three of them right now, I don't think there's any more of them. They may be just a small gang, the kind you see in the hood of Americans.
I stepped forward, putting myself between her and them. "Stay behind me."
Shimotsuki tugged at my shirt, her voice low and urgent.
"Faulker… let's run. Now."
Her words were sharp with worry, but I didn't move. My eyes stayed locked on the three.
"That's a bad idea." I muttered, my tone clipped.
"We don't know how fast they are. And if they've got weapons in those pockets…" I put my guard up, my feet in L-shaped position.
"we'd be lucky to even walk out uninjured."
The air between us and them stretched thin, heavy. Shimotsuki's silence behind me told me she understood. But it didn't ease the dread rolling off her.
The first guy lunged at me, his fist aimed straight at my jaw. At the same time, the second guy threw a low kick aimed at my thigh from the opposite side.
I managed to deflect the fist by doing a shoulder roll. At the same time, I blocked the leg kick by using my shins.
While the second guy is still recovering, I managed to land a back kick on the first guy's stomach. He was sent flying backward.
As if on cue, the third guy managed to get close and threw a jab straight at my face. I stepover to the outside, and countered with an uppercut from below his armpit.
Then, the second guy tried to do an oblique kick, which is a feet stomp aimed at my knee. I barely avoided the kick by dragging my leg back, and managed to kick his head head because he was off-balance.
The clash went on for a few more minutes.
One ducked under my jab, the other one tried to grab my shoulder. I twisted out, driving my elbow into his ribs hard enough to send him stumbling.
But I couldn't relax, not even for a second, as they could pull out their weapons the moment I let my guard down.
Behind me, I could feel Shimotsuki's tension like a string pulled taut. She hadn't taken her eyes off me, her full focus on whether I'd slip, whether one of them would land a blow I couldn't shake off.
Because of that, neither of us noticed the shadow that crept closer.
A fourth man, slinking in silence. Too quiet, too patient. While her attention was chained to me, his hand shot forward, yanking the book straight from her arms.
Her gasp came too late. By the time I whipped my head around, he was already sprinting off into the alley.
The three I was fighting disengaged immediately, backing off with mocking grins before dashing after him.
I cursed under my breath. I'm not injured at all, but the fight had made me used up some of my stamina.
More importantly, that book wasn't just some trinket. It belonged to her. And the fact they wanted it made it worse. Why would they want a novel in the first place?
I turned to Shimotsuki, her hands still clutched tight where the book had been. "Go back to the academy. Now."
Her eyes widened. "What about you—?"
"I'll handle it." My tone left no room for argument. "Just go."
Before she could say more, I sprinted after them, shoes pounding against the cracked pavement. I heard her voice behind me, sharp and desperate.
"Faulker! Stop!"
But the words didn't reach me, not really. The only thing I saw was their shadows flickering ahead, the book in their hands.
The chase twisted through alleys, over broken fences, across empty lots until the city noise thinned. My lungs burned, but I kept running. And then, without even realizing when... I stumbled onto a wide, open clearing.
The skeletal frame of an unfinished building loomed over me, rebar jutting like broken bones. Rusted scaffolds and piles of gravel lay scattered around. And waiting inside are... a bunch of men with the same outfit. Dozens of them.
My breath hitched. Twenty? Maybe more. Every single pair of eyes turned on me the moment I stepped in.
The air inside the half-finished site tasted like rust and dust. Shadows stretched long across concrete pillars, and the sound of my boots echoed against the hollow floor. One of the men closed in, every stride of his is full with confidence.
One of them slipped out through a side door, muttering something I couldn't catch. Didn't matter. My focus was already locked.
It had been a long time since I fought this many at once. Not since—
Wait. Now's not the time to reminiscence.
The first came at me with a sloppy haymaker. I ducked low, driving my shoulder into his gut, then rolled him into the pile of bricks stacked by the wall. It tumbled down in a loud crash, scattering across the floor like dice.
Another rushed in. I grabbed a loose brick, hurled it just past his head—not to hit, but to make him flinch. When he did, my boot caught him square in the chest, sending him sprawling into a rusted barrel.
The circle broke, and more came forward.
I moved before they could surround me. A frayed rope dangled from the scaffold above. I leapt, catching it with both hands, and swung my weight. My heel smashed into a man's jaw as I came down, the crack of bone echoing before he collapsed.
Three at once tried to pin me. I backed toward the stacked buckets of sand, then kicked one over. Dust exploded into the air, choking their vision. Their coughs bought me the half-second I needed—an elbow to one jaw, a fist to another's ribs, then a leg sweep to the last one.
Breath ragged, I realized something: I was comfortable.Too comfortable.
The rhythm of fighting, the chaos, the sound of fists hitting flesh... It all felt almost natural. Like muscle memory I hadn't used in far too long. I moved with sharper focus than I'd felt in months.
Maybe that is also thanks to adrenaline and hysterical strength. I just can't get enough of this sensation.
The last of them hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling over the dusty floor. My chest heaved, sweat sticking to my shirt, but my stance stayed sharp, eyes scanning for the next one.
Silence.
The clatter of bricks and groans of the beaten were all that remained. Two dozen, sprawled across the construction site like broken dolls.
My knuckles throbbed, my shoulders burned, but I hadn't let them land anything serious. Not yet.
I straightened, wiping the blood at the corner of my lip with the back of my hand. A faint grin tugged at my mouth. It had been too long since I moved like this. Too long since I'd had to.
That's when I heard it.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
Not the rushed scrambling of his men. No, this one walked like he owned the place.
The half-finished doorway framed him as he entered. Tallest in the room, broad shoulders under a worn jacket, hair slicked back. His presence filled the space before he even spoke.
"The hell is this?" His voice was calm, almost amused, though his eyes carried a weight that pressed down harder than any of the fists I'd just dodged.
One of the groaning men nearby croaked out, "M-middle, B-brother… he's the one… we brought him here…" before slipping unconscious.
The man referred to as Middle Brother stepped forward. His gaze sweeping over the fallen bodies, before kicking his own men and sending them flying to the side.
His jaw set, and a dangerous smile crept onto his face.
"Faulker Laburantes, huh?" His voice was low, mocking.
"I gotta say, you're not bad. My men told me you were tough, but I didn't think you'd plow through two dozen of 'em monkeys."
My fists clenched, but my voice stayed even. "How the hell do you know my name just from looking at my face?"
Middle Brother's smile widened, sharp as a blade.
He reached for his chest pocket, and pulled out a white card that seems... eerily familiar. He wagged the card slightly, as if teasing me.
"Faulker Laburantes. Year 1. Class 1-D. Student of Imperius Academy."
That information is all I needed. Without a doubt, that is the Student ID I had lost a month ago. It seems I dropped it the first time I had fought against his men, the trio with weapons.
Middle Brother tucked it back into his chest pocket. Body straightened, arms crossed.
Middle Brother's grin widened, teeth flashing like he'd just won something.
"You think this was all coincidence?" he said, spreading his arms as if to present the empty skeleton of the construction site.
"No, Faulker. This was part of the plan. My boys have been scouting around the outskirts of your academy just to draw you out. We weren't after the book. We were after you."
I narrowed my eyes. "Me? That's kinda gay. Good for you if you're into that, but I'm straight."
He ignored my mocking.
"One of my men spotted you earlier. Out with a girl. Ashen-gray hair, emerald eyes. You remember her, don't you?"
His smile sharpened when he saw my shoulders tense.
"When word came she was carrying a package, I knew exactly how to reel you in. If my men took it, you'd chase. Of course you would. That's the type of person you are."
My stomach tightened, his words cutting sharper than I wanted them to.
"The three you fought earlier?" Middle Brother chuckled. "They didn't bring weapons on purpose. I wanted your full attention on them. And while you were busy, my fourth man slipped in and took what she carried. Clean. Easy. Just as I expected."
My fists clenched at my sides. All the pieces fell together, and I hated how smooth it was.
"You have potential, Faulker. A guy like you shouldn't even be on that kindergarten. Be my right-hand man, and we can stand at the top of other Syndicates. Money, women and fame... All of it can be yours."
I stared at him, blinking once. Then, before I could stop myself, a laugh escaped my throat. Perhaps I had gone crazy because I haven't been in this kind of environment since forever. It felt like I belonged here, and the warmth that would burn a normal person somehow felt like home..
"All that planning, just to recruit me, as your right-hand man?" I tilted my head, my voice cutting like glass. Then, I stared at him, dead in the eyes.
"You're so desperate that you're recruiting a high schooler? What's the point of having all that money and fame, when you're just a scared retard that sends his men to fight a high schooler?"
His expression flickered—just for a second—but I caught it. He had gritted his teeth upon hearing my statement..
"Careful, kid." he said, his tone no longer amused. "Insults don't mix well with opportunity."
I spat on the ground between us, never taking my eyes off him. "Neither does stupidity."
The air thickened, every man around us watching, waiting. Middle Brother's jaw flexed, and I could see it. The shift from recruiter to executioner.
Middle Brother stepped in fast, his jab snapping straight toward my face.
I slipped to the outside, instincts carrying me just past the line of his fist. My shoulder brushed his arm as I twisted, throwing all my weight into a tight uppercut aimed at his jaw.
My knuckles connected clean.
But he didn't budge.
It was like punching a concrete wall that smirked back at me. His head didn't snap, his body didn't jolt. He just absorbed it like nothing.
Before I could recoil, his other arm aimed straight for my solar plexus.
I didn't have enough time to avoid it. So I blocked the fist.
But his punch is so heavy that it sent me flying backwards.
"—Gah!"
I crashed onto the ground several meters back, the shock rattling through my bones.
I rolled once, twice, before managing to stop myself, coughing against the dust. My shoulder screamed with every breath, and for a moment, my fingers refused to curl into a fist.
Across from me, Middle Brother stood tall, shaking out his hand casually like I was nothing more than a warm-up bag. His grin widened.
"That felt like a mosquito bite. Is that all you've got? I could-"
I surged forward, closing the gap before he could finish his sentence. Middle Brother's arm coiled and snapped, his left hook arcing toward my temple.
I did a shoulder roll to avoid the hit. His fist grazed the air above me. Perfect opening.
My body twisted, my right leg rooted, and I whipped my left into a hook kick from the outside. The ball of my foot cracked against the side of his neck.
The impact landed clean. I felt the thud.
He didn't even flinch. But it's not over yet.
Grinding my teeth, I jumped while my right leg is planted on his broad shoulder for leverage.
My torso twisted with everything I had. My left leg swinging in a vicious roundhouse. My shin smashed across his jaw with a loud crack.
This time, he tilted. A reaction. I saw it.
But then his hand shot up like a viper. His fingers clamped around my left leg before I could recoil.
"—Tch!"
With terrifying ease, he swung me down. My back slammed into the ground, the air bursting from my lungs.
He didn't stop.
With the same leg clutched in his grip, he hauled me up and smashed me down again, face-first this time. I managed to protect my face, but at the cost of my arm.
Then again, back-first. My spine screamed as the ground buckled under me.
One last time. Front, back, front, back, until he's satisfied.
And with a final heave, he flung me away like discarded trash. My body skidded across the dirt, tumbling over shattered bricks and dust until I came to a halt, every breath a ragged rasp.
Middle Brother cracked his neck, his grin as wide as ever.
"Not bad, kid. But in the face of pure strength, you're nothing."
I staggered, dragging air into my lungs as I pushed myself off the ground. My body screamed, my shoulder throbbing with every move, but I refused to stay down.
That's when I heard it—clink… clink… clink.
I looked down.
The brass pocket watch, that Mr. Takami had given me, had slipped from my pocket, rolling across the cracked concrete until it stopped right between the two of us. Its dull gleam caught both our eyes.
I clenched my teeth and straightened, ignoring the pain, forcing my body upright. My chest heaved, but I stood tall, gaze fixed on Middle Brother.
He didn't move at first. Just stared at the watch, then at me, then back at the watch.
Slowly, he stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing in the silence.
"You…" he muttered, picking it up and brushing the dust off its surface. His expression shifted—grin fading, replaced by something colder, sharper.
"That watch. Don't tell me you're related to that man."
I froze, trying to read his face. "What... are... you..."
Middle Brother's eyes flicked to mine. His grin returned, wider than before, crueler.
"Doesn't matter now. If you've got this, it's proof enough you had something to do with that man. You need to be eliminated. NOW!"
Middle Brother lunged.
I barely had time to bring my guard up before his fists came crashing down. Each strike was like being hit with a sledgehammer.
My arms rattled with every block, shoulders screaming as I tried to roll with the blows, shifting just enough to keep them from landing clean.
But he was relentless. No pause, no opening, just pressure—wave after wave. My feet slid across the dusty floor as I backpedaled, every impact threatening to split my guard wide open.
Then, with terrifying speed for a man his size, he twisted.
His roundhouse kick smashed into my stomach like a battering ram. My breath exploded out of me, and the world tilted sideways as my back hit the ground hard.
I curled slightly, clutching at my midsection, gasping for air that refused to come.
Middle Brother's heavy boots thudded closer, each step sinking into my ears like a drumbeat. I pressed a hand against my stomach, forcing myself not to curl over completely. My body was screaming at me to stay down, but my pride wouldn't allow it.
His strength is unreal. Most of my hits targets his vital points. But he tanked it like it's nothing. And he's also faster than I am. I am inferior to him in everything. I can't win, the way I am now.
He loomed above me, smirking, winding his arm back for the finishing blow.
Until, suddenly.
CRACK!
A brick smashed against the side of his head. Shards of dust and red clay burst apart on impact.
Middle Brother's head snapped to the side. He froze. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around to face whoever had dared throw it.
I blinked, struggling to process what just happened, my chest still heaving.
Someone else is here. But who is it...